


My Favorite Mistake

by Cobrilee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Musician Stiles Stilinski, it's a little smutty but too short to get an e rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: A concert, an unexpected meeting, and a very forward lead singer. Derek thinks his life may never be the same.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 219





	My Favorite Mistake

The first time Derek sees him, his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows drawn together in a sightless expression crossed between misery and ecstasy. Sweat drips down his face, tiny rivulets making slick tracks across heat-flushed skin. He’s wearing a dark red tee with the sleeves torn off, if the fraying threads at the open holes are any indication, and wet patches dot his torso like raindrops on sand.

He doesn’t even know the man’s name, but he’s ready to devote the rest of his life to fulfilling his every desire.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Erica teases in his ear, yelling over the screaming crowd, and Derek jerks away from her knowing grin.

“Isn’t that a prerequisite for being a lead singer?” Derek shoots back, making an effort at keeping his voice neutral, but he doesn’t know why he bothers. Erica has seen the hunger on his face, and she knows him well.

Well enough to catch the hitch in his breath when the most beautiful man he’s ever seen locks eyes on him, even from the stage, and winks. Derek can die happy, and he doesn’t even care if Erica knows it.

When the show is over, she pulls him to the edge of the stage, but the imposing bouncer blocks their way. “Mr. Stilinski isn’t greeting fans right now.”

“He’ll greet this one.” Erica flips her blonde curls, narrows her eyes at the man (who clearly isn’t impressed in the least), and smiles. Derek almost pities the man. That smile spells trouble, and Derek is only grateful it’s not directed at him. “You’ll tell  _ Stiles _ that Erica Reyes is here to see him, or you’ll lose your job.”

Derek winces, but the man breaks out into a grin. “Miss Reyes. You’re everything Mr. Stilinski said, and more. Right this way.”

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Derek whispers as the bouncer leads them into the depths of backstage. 

“Nope.” She loops her arm through his and gives him a smug smirk. “But you’re going to thank me later.” 

They’re directed into a dressing room with the name “Stiles Stilinski” plastered across the front, written in gold Sharpie on a strip of wrinkled white tape. Erica snickers. “They’re giving him the star treatment. Bet he loves that.”

“I take it you know him?” Derek tries not to sound jealous; from the look on Erica’s face, he hasn’t succeeded.

“We went to college together. He brought me butterscotch lattes from the coffee shop he worked at and I let him look down my shirt sometimes.” Derek gives her an appalled look and she shrugs. “Or, y’know, he crashed at my place a lot when his roommate was having really loud sex and he didn’t want to sleep in the study carrels at the library.”

A snort from the other side of the room catches Derek’s attention and his eyes shoot to the source of the sound. His heart thunders at the vision of the man--Stiles, apparently--lounging back on a slightly banged up, dark gray leather couch. His arms are spread out across the back of the cushions and his legs are crossed at the ankles, which are encased in jet-black jeans that mold to his legs like a second skin. Derek unconsciously follows the line of them up Stiles’ legs, but his gaze skitters away when he lands on Stiles’... assets. Of which there are plenty.

His cheeks burn like fire when he catches Stiles’ eyes, a sly, understanding smirk spread across his face. “You’re as classy as ever,” he says, and his voice is like whisky on the rocks, paralleling his honey-colored eyes nicely. They never leave Derek’s despite the fact that he’s clearly addressing Erica. “I missed you, Catwoman.”

“Please, Batman,” she scoffs, plopping down beside him. “You’ve been too busy trying to get this dumpster fire you call a band up and running to miss me.”

She leans in and gives him a side-hug, and Stiles stops looking at Derek long enough to return the hug and give her a genuine smile. “This dumpster fire, as you call it, is now booked every night this month.” Erica squeals and squeezes him tighter. Derek tries not to let the jealousy grow. “Now are you going to introduce me to your friend, or do I have to guess his name?”

Erica laughs. “This, my friend, is your next big mistake.”

Derek frowns at Erica, but he’s caught off guard when Stiles leans forward, eyes glinting, and purrs, “You’re wrong, Catwoman. I never make mistakes.” 

And there’s definitely no mistaking the look of invitation in his heated stare. 

They head out to dinner from there, and Derek watches and listens as Stiles and Erica catch up. He craves every glance Stiles flicks his way, greedily inhales the promise in his voice when he murmurs flirtations in his ear, basks in the feel of Stiles’ hand on his thigh.

He barely notices when Stiles gets Erica a Lyft and his best friend leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and an admonishment to use lots of condoms. He’s too intoxicated by the gleaming gold of Stiles’ eyes when he moves in, pressing him against the wall of the bar while they wait outside for their own Lyft, his grip moving to Derek’s dick and his tongue to Derek’s throat. He licks away the vibration of Derek’s groans as his hips hitch upward, chasing the heat and the pressure of Stiles’ palm.

He doesn’t know how they make it to his bed, but every thrust fills the back of his eyelids with technicolor bursts. He grips the headboard and swallows down every moan until Stiles leans in, bites the back of his neck, and says, “Stop holding back. I want to hear you.”

And when his hips pick up the pace, when he gives Derek the full length of his cock with precise, hammering strokes, Derek gives in and lets Stiles hear every shuddering, throaty cry, until he’s hoarse and trembling and coming in wrenching bursts while Stiles jerks against him and then collapses across his back. 

He rolls over, and Stiles presses an unexpectedly chaste kiss against his lips. He starts to drift off and in the haze, he hears Stiles whisper, “Erica might be right about you, but right now, I can’t bring myself to care.”

The last time he sees him, Derek is on his back, naked, with come on his abs and his dick lying soft over his thigh, while Stiles pulls on the ragged red tee and the jeans that will feature in Derek’s fantasies. He gives Derek a soft look from the door, then slips it closed behind him. There’s an ache in his heart when he closes his eyes and falls into sleep.

He wakes up the next morning to a note slipped under his door.  _ “We’re playing in San Diego tonight, The Wallflower, nine. Looking forward to round two, and finding out if you’re a mistake after all.” _

Derek smiles. Falling for Stiles might be the worst kind of mistake, but at least he’s not alone.


End file.
